A/N: Okay... Firstly let me point something out, something that will be coming up as an issue: I am not racist. I'm not a homophobe. I'm not sexist, or whatever. I believe all people are equal until they do something stupid that makes them not equal. Nor do I think that Bobby is really a racist. I think he says whatever he can to get under people's skin. Therefore, I'm not going to edit the conversations, and create an OC type Bobby, because of the risk of offending someone. My sister and I were the first generation on my father's side born here in America; I'm against racism of all types, whether it be race, color, sex, sexual orientation, etc. But again, I think Bobby says whatever he can for shock value, and needling affect, and sheer 'just-don't-give-a-rats-ass'. So... Yeah, you get the idea. There won't be racist names, or put downs, but Bobby would be the type to call a gay man a fag or a homo. He would call a middle-eastern man Habib or Achmed. He would call a mexican a taco. And since that's how the character is, that is what I will write. If that offends anyone, please leave now.

Bobby closed his eyes, mind racing as he struggled to think, his head pounding as blood dripped onto the car seat.

"Okay. Listen, we're gonna go, get a motel room. You're gonna stay there, and I'm gonna call someone to come get the car and get it fixed up. You're gonna stay in that fuckin' motel room, you hear me? You already smoked my cigarettes, and crashed my fuckin' car; you get me arrested for kidnapping and I'm really gonna be pissed," He said irritably, popping the door open.

On the other side of the car, Jack slowly did the same, holding one arm over his stomach as he hobbled along behind him. Bobby made a mental note to check the kid's ribs later. Right then, they had to get out of there before somebody seen Jack. He walked behind the car, and pried the trunk open, pulled out the duffel bag with the cash, and stuck his spare pistol in the back of his pants, before turning to look at Jack.

"Look, we passed a motel back up the road about a mile. You gonna be able to walk that far?"

"I'm fine," The kid answered miserably. Bobby glanced back, and saw tears still coming down Jack's face.

Bobby sighed as they started walking. "Okay, kid, I'm gonna give you a pep talk, but we gotta keep moving so bear with me, a'ight? We gotta get to the motel before somebody sees you.

"Look, yeah, I'm pissed about the car. But not at you. More like... pissed with you, if that makes any sense. I dunno, I ain't the one good with words; that'd be my younger brother Jeremiah. I just... Shit, kid, you scared the fuck outta me. Before we crashed into the tree. Mind tellin' me what the hell happened?" When he got no response, he continued on, "Kid... I don't know much about you. But I got an idea where you're comin' from. See, I'm a foster kid. Me and my two younger brothers. My ma was our social worker before she adopted us all. And uh... Wasn't none of us put in foster care 'cause our parents were just peachy, you know what I mean? So I uh... I just wanna help ya out, kid, but... holy damn, you scared the hell outta me."

"Do your brothers look like you?"

Of all the responses he could have gotten, that was the last one Bobby expected. He laughed loudly. "Oh yeah, kid, we're all fuckin' triplets. Identical. Nah, we had different parents."

"So they're your foster brothers," Jack said quietly, looking slightly less miserable as he glanced over at Bobby.

"Nah, man, they're my real brothers. We're tighter than most blood brothers. Granted, we get a lot of funny looks the first time we meet new people. They're black," He explained at Jack's puzzled look. "Angel's six foot, practically solid muscle. Kid wouldda been good at boxing or wrestling if he had any damn ambition. Jeremiah's six foot two, and skinny as a bean pole. Hell, he's almost as skinny as you."

They trudged on in silence for a while, before finally coming to a hole in the wall motel. Damn thing didn't even have a name, just a big ass sign that said 'Mo el'.

"Okay, here's the plan: You're gonna go around the side of the building, and wait there. You see anybody coming, you get outta sight, you understand? I'm gonna get a room, then I'll come get you. Just... stay outta sight, a'ight?"

The kid was good at taking orders, Bobby'd give him that much; no questions, no nothing, the kid just disappeared behind the back of the building.

Bobby shook his head as a dark thought occurred to him. It probably wasn't a good thing that the kid took orders so well.

Pissed off, Bobby stormed into the office. "Hey! Yo, asshole! I need a fuckin' room!" Bobby called out, banging on the small bell.

A small, middle-eastern man came out of the back. "There is no need to be rude. I could hear you come in."

"Yeah, right, whatever. Listen, Habib, I crashed my car 'bout a mile up the road. I'm gonna need a place to stay while they fix it. You got anything with two beds?"

The Arab shook his head. "No, I do not. It's hunting season, and this is one of the best hunting spots in Texas. Are you traveling with someone?"

"Look, it ain't none of your fuckin' business who I'm with or where I'm goin', Habib. It just so happens, I prefer two beds when I come to shitty ass outta the way motels like this, 'cause it improves my chances of gettin' one I can actually sleep on. Especially when they're run by people who generally sleep on the sand in a tent. Do you have anything available or not?"

"I have... One room. Queen size bed, kitchenette, with complimentary movie channels. Will that be acceptable?"

"Yeah, yeah, whatever. Just give me the damn room. How much you gonna gouge me for this?"

"It will be seventy three dollars a night."

Bobby rolled his eyes. "Yeah, of course it is. Whatever. I'm gonna need it for at least two or three days while they fix my car. You know a decent mechanic around here?"

"There is Ronald Potter up the road about three miles. He is a competent mechanic," The man said, filling out a receipt and handing it to Bobby with a frown.

"You got his number?"

"It is in the phone book in your room. Please enjoy your stay with us."

"Yeah, right. Gonna just have a freakin' ducky time with the backwater hicks."